


even in panic, you're beautiful

by saltygiraffe4406



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, First Meetings, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Insecure Harry, M/M, Mild Language, Nice Louis, One Shot, Panic Attacks, but also long, like thats all this is, so like, this is short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltygiraffe4406/pseuds/saltygiraffe4406
Summary: "Hey, lad, it's all right. Just focus on me, yeah? Listen to my voice." Through a fuzzy, dull haze, Harry started to hear...? What was that? An angel?A short Uni AU where Harry meets Louis when Harry is mid panic attack.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 47





	even in panic, you're beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> As I sit here, i'm having a flashback to me saying how much i'm gonna write and update. Then, i'm realizing that I haven't wrote for like 4 months because...well, life.  
> Anyway, here's this. I'm too lazy to edit, so sorry.  
> This literally was supposed to be short. Its longer than I wanted and it's basically just them meeting. But, like I hope you can enjoy.

No way. No fucking way was Harry sick. Of course, the puke that had just been flushed down his toilet said otherwise. But Harry  really  could not be sick. He had a group presentation tomorrow. Keyword being  group ! He had been working up the nerve to do this presentation for a month and now that he finally felt ready (After about ten run throughs with Niall, granted, but hey he was going to take what he could get.) he just had to get sick. Harry absolutely refused to accept this fact, however. Glancing at the clock by his bedside, he saw the time was only 3:30, meaning he still had two hours to feel better. So, after double checking (Okay, fine. Triple checking.) that his alarm was set, Harry snuggled back in his bed and fell asleep to the soft sounds of rainfall. 

Harry really wished he could be sick now. Seriously. Why couldn't he puke when he wanted to. Oh yes, that's right, Harry remembered. He couldn't puke, seeing as he had been too nervous to eat, he had no food in his stomach. Why hadn't Harry eaten this morning? At least if he puked then he would have a valid excuse to get out of this. He hadn't paid attention to the first four groups before his and now the one before them was up. Harry was very self aware of his knee bouncing up and down (He worried it was too obnoxious, but was too distracted to think further on it), his sweaty hands wringing beneath the table, and his jittering nerves prickling beneath his skin. He couldn't think, let alone focus on anything going on at the front of the lecture room. Harry hated Uni. Why couldn't the classes be simply lectures? Honestly, Harry didn't understand what the point of this was. He just wanted to go back home and cry. He looked at the front and suddenly realized the group before was done and his group was set to go next. As he stood up, Harry could only feel nervous and helpless. He couldn’t do this. Why would he think he could do this? Harry got up with his group, but instead of going to help set up, he rushed to the professors desk, muttered something about feeling sick, and rushed to the door. He ignored the confused faces and following questions of where he was going that were coming from his classmates and opted to leave the room. He was speed walking down the empty hallway, hearing the pounding of his steps against the tiles. Or was that his heartbeat. Harry wasn’t sure anymore. What he was sure of, though, was his breaths that were getting harder and harder to take. 

The next thing Harry knew, he was on the floor, back pressed to the wall, trembling hands grasping at his chest, and unsteady breaths. Why couldn't he breathe? Harry couldn't think about anything, he was just trying to  breathe , why couldn't he breathe?His vision was fuzzy and his panic only increased. He just wanted this to be over, to be able to breathe again. In the back of his head, he registered that tears were pouring down his face and one of his hands was yanking at his hair, the other had slapped onto the ground and curled into a fist atop the cold tile floor. Mostly, Harry was just focused on trying to draw in breath from his gasping mouth. He felt like the air around him was poison and he was only having a bad reaction, making him not able to breathe. He just wanted  air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Air. 

Why couldn't he breath? 

"Hey, lad, it's all right. Just focus on me, yeah? Listen to my voice." Through a fuzzy, dull haze, Harry started to hear...? What was that? An angel? 

"Just try to breathe and focus, mate. Come on you can breathe with me." As the voice continued going and Harry was able to focus more, he had started to decipher the voice as one that belonged to someone crouched next to him. Dazed, Harry was able to decipher the fair shape of a man, presumably the one talking, was next to him with his face right in front of him. He had startling blue eyes and soft, feathery locks, with a bit of light scruff on his face. His brows were furrowed as he looked at Harry and he seemed genuinely worried for him. He raised up a small hand held on a dainty wrist before speaking again. 

In a raspy, but light and reassuring voice, the man spoke quietly. "Is is alright if I reach out?" Harry really didn't understand, but he jerked his head up and down, anyway. Slowly, his hand reached forward and took the hand that had been plastered onto the tile, bringing it up to the man's chest. "Just focus on my breathing and try to match mine, alright? You got this, mate." Somehow, the man's words were able to get through to Harry and he tried to put his mind on breathing. He felt the rise and fall of the mysterious man’s chest and put all of his energy into following suit. "There you go, you got it," the man continued to reassure him until Harry was able to finally breathe at a regular pace. 

Although it took a long while, Harry was finally able to get his breathing under control. The mans hold on his hand loosened and Harry pulled his hand back. After wiping the remnants of any tears left on his face, Harry looked up and into the eyes of the man that helped him. Once he looked up , however, Harry felt his mouth go dry. The man was...beautiful. He was beautiful. And here Harry was having a complete mental breakdown in front of him. He was completely mortified and felt heat run to his cheeks. The man hadn't left and continued to stare down at him with furrowed brows and a worried gaze. Just fucking great. Clearing his throat, Harry set out to speak and opened his mouth. But then he realized he didn't have a clue what to say after an ordeal like that, so just sat there, fish mouthed and staring at him. 

"Are you alright now?" 

Unsure of what to do, Harry nodded. Clearing his throat, though, Harry tried to speak again. "Um, yeah, thanks." The man gave him a tight lipped small, seemingly unsure of if that was allowed yet. 

"You really didn't need to stay like this." Harry drawled out in his slow, deep voice. 

Waving his hand, he responded, "Oh no, mate, it was really no problem." Harry blinked up at him. After a lightly awkward pause, the man spoke again. "My name's Louis, by the way." He offered up a smile and a hand to shake. Harry was about to take it, when it hit him. 

"Louis? You couldn't be Louis Tomlinson, could you?" 

"Yeah, that's me! How do you know me, exactly?" 

"Fuck." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Louis Tomlinson. You've got to be shitting me. Your Zayn's roomate, aren't you?" 

"Um, yeah. Do you know Zayn, or something?" 

Sighing, Harry looked away and just nodded. 

"What's wrong? Are you two fighting or something?" Harry didn't know how to answer. Because, the truth was not that they were fighting. In fact, it was much more awkward. Harry could either go with this lie or tell Louis the truth. The awkward that Zayn was a new friend of his (one his only friends, really, but that didn't matter so much) and since he knew Harry was very much single had formed a great plan to get Harry to meet his very wonderful flatmate that is very much sweet and sour and also very much gay for guys like Harry. No. No way could Harry tell him that. Instead of answering Louis, he just gave a half hearted shrug and made to get up. He stood slowly, already beginning to feel the pounding headache that usually comes after a panic attack. The man looked confused and just followed Harry as we slowly made his way for the doors at the end of the hallway. When they were at the end, Harry finally turned to look back at the man. 

"Why are you following me?" 

"Well," he started, "you were talking to me and then got up and left. So, naturally, I had to follow you." 

"Naturally." 

"Naturally." He replied with an easy smirk simmering on his lips. Not in the particular mood to deal with this, Harry just turned, went out the doors, walked through the parking lot, and stopped in front of his car. Only once had had gotten in, did Harry notice Louis was  also getting in  his car.

"What are you doing? 

"Well, I missed lecture, so I figured you might as well give me a ride." Harry just let out a long sigh and let it be before starting the car. Louis pushed forward to turn on some music and Harry almost cringed when Disney princes music turned on. Almost. Right now, Harry was too exhausted to even feel embarrassed. It was pretty common for him to feel like crap after a panic attack. He usually just would curl into bed until the next day after. Harry was, however, when he turned to find tattooed, black skinnies, and band tee Louis mouthing right along to the lyrics. Although, he mused, he may not have thought Louis to be gay upon first glance only. Not that Harry liked to play into stereotypes. He just though he had a pretty decent ability on guessing someone's character. So, Harry would have noticed the way Louis' eyes tended to stay locked on a guy's ass a little suspiciously long. Or when his eyes widened at the muscle on the ripped dude's biceps. But mostly Louis' wrists ave it away. Zayn, of course, had learned of Harry's admiration for dainty wrists. And Zayn's flatmate had to have dainty wrists. Fucking writs. Looking over, Harry saw Louis had rolled the window down and was waving his hand casually about. Harry knew he was screwed. Fucking dainty wrists.

"Well, this is awkward, but...Well, I assume this is where you live. And it's definitely not my house. So, like, can i stay at yours for a bit?" 

Harry gave a wide eyed stare to Louis as he talked. "Oh. Um. Sorry. For some reason, I didn't think of going to yours. You can just stay at mine, though." Harry told him without reard to what he was actually sying. Because if he had, he would not have let a stranger into his place. However, Harry was clearly  not  in a very rational thinking mindset. So, together, Harry and Louis walked into a building, made their way to the fifth floor, and stopped in front of room 203. Harry, after pulling out his keys, lifted shaky hands to the lock. He fumbled a few times before Louis reached up and gently took the keys, opening the door himself. Exhausted, Harry passed through his cozy, kempt kitchen and tidy, comfortable living space. Instead, he opted to go straight to his room. Once in, he toed off his shoes and snuggled straight into his bed, finally feeling well under the covers. In the back of his mind, he was aware that someone he met only moments ago was free to wander his house. The majority of his brain took over, though, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

"SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER! That fucking  burnt ! Why the hell is this so  hot?" 

Harry had awoken a few time to strange things, but a raspy voice yelling profanities was new. Sitting up, Harry felt he had a pounding headache. Closing his eyes, Harry though carefully about what happened yesterday, trying to remember the day's events. 

Oh no. This can't be real. Harry really had a panic attack yesterday, Louis  fucking  Tomlinson (Who has dainty  fucking  wrists) really saw him, and he really let him stay at his flat without a second thought. And now, said Louis Tomlinson, was yelling profanities from what sounded to be the kitchen. Turning his head, Harry saw the clock flashed 5:54. The meant Louis had been in his house, while Harry was asleep, for about six hours now. Resigning himself to his certainly horrible fate, Harry slowly got out of bed. He carefully went into his conjoined bathroom and almost cringed from looking at his reflection. Mostly, because Harry looked awful. His face was blotchy with dry tear tracks running down, his eyes were red with bags under them, and his whole face had turned a shade of red. Not to mention, his hair was a total nest on his head. Not really knowing what he could do that wouldn't take a crazy long time, he washed his face off and brushed a bit through his hair. He decided to go out and face Louis after he had heard more yelling. 

"Why won't this piece of shit work? FUCK ME!" After the small crash that followed, Harry hurried to head to the kitchen. He walked in to find Louis (attempting, really) cooking. He was at the stove and looked to be making tea. Or at least trying. He had the kettle filled with water and was messing with the knobs, although it appeared to be unsuccessful. Meanwhile, a charred piece of toast (Harry, at first, has mistaken it with a piece of coal) appeared to be cooling next to the toaster, while another piece of bread was already burning. Once Harry cleared his throat to signal his presence, Louis startled and almost dropped the tea kettle. He was able to save it and managed to put the knob on a medium level before he made his way back over to where Harry was standing in the entryway. 

"So, it looks like you're awake. I've bee waiting quit a while you know." 

Harry honestly didn't even know what to say. What was one supposed to say when faced with a sight like that? So, he continued to stand there and stare at Louis. From the rate this was going, Harry was sure Louis would leave at any moment. when he realized Harry wasn't going to say anything, Louis continued talking. 

"Well, I though you might be hungry, so I made you something to eat." 

"Erm," Harry started, unsure how to show gratitude for the burnt food. "Thanks, I guess" 

"You guess? What do you mean?" 

"Well, it's just a little burn. And, I believe, still burning." That must have jolted something in the other man, for he widened his eyes and went back to the toaster. Muttering a string of profanities under his breath, Louis took a fork and popped the toast out. Then grabbed it. With his  bare hands . 

"SHIT!" Harry wasn't sure he had ever heard someone scream that loud, but Harry reached forward, grabbed a towel, and took the bread from Louis. He set the towel clad bread onto the counter and looked over at Louis. The man had watering eyes and was gnawing harshly on his lip. Sighing, Harry gently took Louis' hands into his own and brought them under the faucet. Making sure the water was cool, Harry turned the sink on to let the water run over Louis' hands. 

"There, that should feel better." When Harry looked up again, he saw that Louis was looking down at him with a small smirk on his face. "What?" 

"Nothing," he responded with the air of nonchalance that hinted it was definitely something. Always being one to look for answers, Harry questioned again. 

"No, really, what is it?" Louis shrugged his shoulders. "Louis, what is it?" 

Going into a full blown smile, Louis told him. "Finally got you comfortable and talking." Rolling his eyes, Harry turned away. 

"That was misleading and highly anticlimactic." At this, Louis let out a small chuckle. A small chuckle that sounded like an angel's singing voice. Internally, Harry cursed Zayn for understanding his taste in men so well. Harry wished he could bottle up a jar of Louis' laughter and listen to it whenever he felt sad. And then Harry wished he could take that thought away because it was horribly embarrassing and very ridiculous. 

"Well, I guess maybe I shouldn't have cooked. Honestly, i'm just happy I didn't burn the house down. Not sure you would have been to happy to wake up to flames." At this, Harry let out a laugh. "Hey, you laughed! And you have dimples! Dimples. for goodness, sakes!" 

Harry simply rolled his eyes, ignoring the comment about his dimples. "Could I ask you a question, actually?" Louis nodded his head, so Harry continued on. "Um, well, I don't mean this in a bad way at all, just, um? Why exactly are you still here?" 

At that, Louis gave out a small chuckle. "Well, at first it was because you drove us here. And then I figured I might as well stay around and such." Harry was still confused as to why Louis was still there, but didn't want to bother him with more questions. So, he turned to Louis' hands and took them out of the water, before gently drying them off with a hand towel. Louis sent him a small smile in thanks and dragged Harry to the living area. 

"Your flat is ace, by the way, mate. Want to watch a movie, or summat?" 

Confused by this whole interaction, all Harry could do was nod. Louis flipped through the channels, before moving landing on Grease. "A right classic, yeah?" Harry simply nodded his head and turned to the movie. Not even a minute later, Louis was talking again. Only, this time, it wasn't to him. Louis appeared to be ordering food on his phone. This boy really was something else. after thirty minutes went by, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He was a squirming, tapping, and jittery mess. Why wasn't Louis saying anything about earlier. Wasn't he curious as to what had set Harry off? Or what was wrong with him? Or, at least, what was happening now? So, after about thirty minutes, Harry finally let up and said something. 

"Aren't you going to ask?" He blurted. Then, immediately regretted it. If Louis hadn't asked, there was obviously a reason. Now, Louis probably thought Harry was such a mess he couldn't even relax. Louis, however, only paused the movie before fixing Harry with a confused look and tilted head. Cheeks burning, Harry looked down into his lap and figured he had to say more, to explain himself. "You know, because of earlier. Like, you haven't asked or even mentioned what happened." At this, Louis lost the confused and expression and replaced it with an understanding nod. 

"If you want to talk about it, i'm here to listen, of course." 

Now Harry was the confused one. "No, that's not what I meant. Like, don't you want to know why i'm so messed up?" 

"Harry," Louis said, shaking his head, "I don't think your messed up. You just got a bit overwhelmed today?" 

"A bit? I was shaking and crying and you had to save my sorry ass to breathe. Of course, that means i'm messed up." 

"Anxiety isn't messed up. It's perfectly normal, young Harold." 

"It's just Harry," he mumbled. 

"What was that?" 

Speaking up, Harry said, "My name. It's not Harold. My name is just Harry." 

"Well, Just Harry, you can either tell me about you panic attack," at those words Harry flinched, "or we can continue to watch the beloved classic Grease." 

"Grease?" 

"Perfect." 

And so they finished the movie. 

The next time that Harry woke up, he was alone and a sticky note was stuck to his head. Reading it, Harry felt a small smile flit over his lips. 

Sorry, I had to leave, Just Harry, but I had work. 

Hope you have a good sleep!

My #'s on back, call me!

Love, Louis 

So, Harry sent Louis a text and the next thing he knew they had a date next Friday. 

3 YEARS LATER 

"Louis Tomlinson. Light of life. Half of my heart. My true soulmate. The day I met you was one of the best worst days I have ever had. You saw me, though, and you saved me. When I looked up and first heard you talking to me through my panic attack, I though you were an angel. Like, I quite literally thought you were an angel. And that man was the one i fell in love with. The one that was kind enough to help the poor crying boy in the hallway. And I think that when you made me smile, then I realized it. I am completely and utterly in love with you, Louis Tomlinson. So, would you make me the happiest man in the universe and marry me?"

"Yes, Harry, yes!!" Louis cried out with tears running down his face. "I love you, so much baby. That day, when I saw you, all I could think was why the world would dare let someone as beautiful as you be hurt. Then, I got to know you and I figured that you were just too prefect. So, the world tried to bring you down. But you, my wonderful angel, fought and you made it. And i love you for that." 

They were both crying and Harry buried his face in Louis' neck. Louis ruffled his hands through Harry's hair. And they just breathed it in, at least for a while. 

Then Louis spoke, voicing both of their thoughts. 

"We're getting married." 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't claim it happened.


End file.
